


Raven Wing

by Mother_North



Series: Enchantment [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Captivity, Caretaking, Chenyu - Freeform, Dark, Drama, Emotional, Fantasy, First Time, Forbidden Love, Healing, Hunters & Hunting, Longing, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Making Love, Mention of blood, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Psychology, Raven!Yuzuru, Rituals, Sex, Shapeshifting, miraculous escapes, romantic af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15523839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: “What is it like to fly?”“What is it like to love?”“I’ll show you.”**A fantasy AU with Raven!Yuzuru and Hunter!Nathan





	1. A shadow of a man

**Author's Note:**

> Just because.
> 
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full and it is not meant to offend anyone. It is a product of my imagination only and all of the events described as well as characters are obviously fictional. Please note, that tags and rating are there for a reason.  
> Eternal thanks to precious Puniyo for coping bravely with my brainstorming.
> 
> Enjoy.

**

The wind wailed, the wind was tearing at his long cloak, making it flap behind his back like a pair of huge black wings; each step taken carefully in a knee-deep snow, not a soul miles around in case of a miscalculated movement. He was not the one to question the first and foremost commandment of survival in the wilderness: caution and vigilance above all.

He was not the one to give answers too — to any questions, for he spoke extremely seldom.

_A Loner. A Hunter. A Man._

Surrounded by unforgiving dense woods, which were lost in snowy mountains; a constant struggle for survival making his instincts inhumanely sharp and his senses as alert as those of wild beasts, whom he was hunting at.

A black shadow on a blinding white snow — stealth and deadly.

He didn’t hear his own name spoken out loud for months on end, his only companions — his taut bow and sharpened hunter knife. He stopped, gazing at snow-covered mountain peaks, breathing in the crisp, frosty air, the forest seemingly breathing in with him.

His gloved fingers hovered over a set of tracks on the snow, a potential prey couldn’t be too far. The silence around was deafening, only the wind howled in the dead branches of the trees above. He looked at puffs of air formed by his own breathing, thinking that the heat of his body was good bait for all kinds of famished creatures, wandering across this desolateness.

He used to trade wolfskins for food and necessities at the small town in the valley below; a trip down there was not an easy one and took more than four hours by foot.

Sometimes he wished he could fly.

_Snap._

A branch under an adult man’s foot, approximately one hundred meters to his left. He knew of only one man who could be there, as the dusk was starting to fall; his rival hunter and nemesis — _Patrick_.

He didn’t like to share but the man had to be taken into consideration. He was older and more experienced, years of his bloody craft imprinted on his stark features, which looked as if made of stone: impassive and heartless.

He remembered meeting him at the candlelit hall of the local tavern — sitting in the corner and drinking his sour ale wordlessly, his keen eyes scanning drunken faces, as if he was searching for another prey of his. He looked completely immune to merriness and vitality and many casted their eyes away the moment they met the impenetrable darkness of his black orbs. Patrick had a nature of a predator and a sense of smell of a wolf, at least, people used to say so.

He was a dangerous man and it was his last intention to cross ways with the other hunter on that particular night, or any other occasions, for that matter. There was something morbid about the air of the man.

Instead he chose to retreat — the time for their direct confrontation hasn’t arrived yet. He knew nothing of an arrow ready — skillful fingers aiming it straight at his back as a pair of eagle-sharp eyes squinted slightly at his figure disappearing among the trunks of the bare trees.

His tiny wooden hut, lost in snow and shielded by rocks and relict fir-trees, seemed to wait for his return, for its door squeaked almost welcomingly, greeting its owner with a semblance of warmth. It was the only home he had known for years, although, it was by his own choosing.

He closed the door securely as a feeble flame at the hearth started to lick at the firewood tentatively. The night promised to be ruthlessly cold, clear skies blinking from above with countless bright stars.

_He was sure they didn’t see him and he was sure they never cared._

He closed his eyes, sighing tiredly and wrapping into furs from the large heap, which served him as a makeshift bed. _This_ darkness was comfortable and familiar, enveloping him into its soothing drowsiness. He was exhausted after a day spent on his feet and the skin of his face was tingling from the pleasant heat of the fire.

Unbidden thoughts of the people from the valley used to visit him sometimes, before he descended into the realm of Morpheus: of children laughter and lover’s cuddle, of freshly-made steamy venison stew and motherly kiss on his forehead. He was still rather young yet he couldn’t remember the way his mother’s lips felt on his skin nor the way, her hands used to ruffle his unruly, dark locks before smiling at him whole-heartedly.

_Such life was not meant for him._

He shifted, turning to his side, eyes opened now, staring unseeingly at the dancing flames before him. He was recalling his latest visit to the town; spending a night at the public house in a _human_ bed — damp sheets and lice, just the way it has to be. Too bad, he was too tired to return to his plain, lonely abode on the same day.

The local villagers were stealing glances at him: always whispering and only ever quietly. He couldn’t decipher their splutter most of the time but he read faces like no one.

The air in the tavern that evening was easy and the ale, which tasted less watered than usual, was flowing like a river, alcohol-loosened tongues chattering at all sides; crude language and uncomely gestures, the typical diversion for long and dark winter evenings.

He took place next to a stony fireplace, the constant need for warmth seemingly in his bones. Two tipsy men behind the round, oaken table were attracting everyone’s attention with the slurred conversation they were having, which was intermitted by bursts of loud laughter. The man of great stature, with greasy strands of brown hair plastered to his forehead and a face of a drunkard, was talking practically non-stop, pouring information out faster than the boy-bartender _Jin_ who was refilling their pints.

“Tom-the-Reek saw _one_ last week! I swear with my mother’s bones!” His declaration was met with another outburst of drunken laughter.

“Nah…It is impossible, _they_ are all dead now, the last one was hunted down more than a decade ago, and you know it, Jimmy, because you were there yourself…Besides, who gives a shit about your old mother’s bones, huh?!”

The man talking this time was known as Slurping-Raff and he did his best to live up to his nickname.

“Shut up! You don’t know Tom-the-Reek as good as I do and he wouldn’t lie. It can mean only one thing: _the evil_ is in our lands again and something has to be done about it. Maybe, we can organize a round-up and chase _the thing_ down or…”

“Just tell, Patrick-the-Hunter! He knows those damned Woods of Doom like the back of his hand and he once said that he would like to have _one’s_ skull as a trophy. I think he’ll agree to do the job with immense satisfaction if only what you are talking about _is_ _true_ , after all. ”

Jimmy-the-Lubber’s thick lips quivered from a barely concealed indignation. His huge fist descending on the wooden surface of the table with such force its legs creaked feebly.

“More ale, Jin-boy! So that we can drink to my truthfulness and generosity, which would conquer my dear Raff’s skepticism and distrust once and for all!”

The wrangling Raff didn’t seem to mind to be defeated in such a way. 

The boy at the bar stand bowed his round head a couple of times, his straight, long fringe swaying a bit comically, as he was refilling the two glasses for the _nth_ time.

He made a way to the young man behind the counter, thinking that, to endure Jimmy-the-Lubber’s and Slurping-Raff’s inebriated toasting to Tom-the-Reek’s manhood, he was in need of some more ale himself. The boy smiled at him with a dutiful smile of his. It seemed he was hesitating before finally speaking:

“Haven’t seen you at our place for quite a while…Do you…Do you think Jimmy is telling the truth? Have you seen _one_? I don’t know…It is hard to believe and _they_ are said to be dangerous, casting dark spells and incantations to make human blood freeze just for fun! My mother often repeats: _Dark wings are harbingers of Death_. She says: “be careful, my boy, because they come for those, who were chosen by the Elder Gods and they dwell in the Neverlands, far beyond the Woods of Doom and snow-covered Mountains of the North” and then I…”

The boy had to be stopped, his torrent of words making his temples throb with dull pain.

“ _Shape-shifters_ do not exist anymore. They are extinct. They were killed by such… _humans_ like Jimmy-the-Lubber and Tom-the-Reek and their fathers and forefathers were haunting them for the majority of their wretched lives, making their ultimate demise their life goal… Well, it looks like they have succeeded.”

The ache in his head intensified.

“Pour me some more.”

Jin’s dark eyes sparkled and he bent to him closer, words leaving his lips frantically and in hushed whispers, as if he was afraid of being heard by someone else.

“Tell me if you see _one_ , please. They are said to be otherworldly beautiful and that those who lay their eyes on them even once are enticed forever…And they can _fly_ …I wish I could fly too, I’d have flown away far from here: towards the horizon, into the setting red Sun or into an endless night sky, dissolving in the majestic lights of Aurora Borealis… ”

He looked at the boy in front of him and his heart went out to Jin — stuck in the middle of nowhere, each day of his existence spent in the seedy pothouse, his every action dictated by his tyrannical mother, whose aim was that her only son would marry the daughter of the tavern owner to inherit this place of misery with its alcohol-drenched, lost souls.

“I will.”

He found it in him to put some warmth into his smile, as he was paying for the drinks before retiring to the shabby room upstairs.

The fire in the hearth was wiggling whimsically, long shadows casted on the walls of his hut making him think of _the shadows_ in the night Woods. He asked himself whether _he_ believed those stories. He remembered hearing a _croak_ , its sound piercing the eerie stillness of the forest at a frosty dawn a few days ago. He remembered himself stopping in his steps, a hot wave of anxiety washing over him…Maybe, it was just _a crow_? The woods didn’t seem to give any hints, brooding mutely, and there seemed to be no visible signs of _their_ renewed presence.

His thoughts were refusing to let him fall asleep with admired vehemence as he kept on turning in his bedding for hours on end, his dark curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes burning into the surrounding darkness with tenseness of a sleep-deprived man.

In front of his mind’s eye he saw Patrick smirking at him disdainfully, as he was putting several lynx skins of the highest quality onto the counter, two wolf skins of his paling in comparison. He was bested.

Again.

His rival knew his métier well and it was no wonder that his reputation of the best hunter in the grounds was undisputed. He knew he still had much to learn and he hoped that one day he would be able to challenge Patrick’s supremacy.

Nothing is destined to last forever.

Inhaling deeply and balling his fists at his sides, he willed his thoughts to clear off; the tiredness of his body finally taking its toll on his agitated mind as his strained muscles were beginning to relax, eventually.

The words of a nearly forgotten ancient half-prayer, half-plea came to him as if on their own accord.

_Elder Gods of Northern Realm, spare me of your Anger, protect me in the blackness of the Night and under the bright light of the Day; make my Resolve unshakable and my Hand strong; pour your great Wisdom into my Soul and cleanse my Heart of Disturbance, for I pledge my Loyalty and Service to those that are of Unseen and of ever Unknown._

Complete silence served him as the only answer. He knew that _auto-da-fe_ was awaiting anyone who was found out to be praying in that way. He was not afraid of such destiny and the fact was scarier than the prospect of being burned alive itself.

The square of the only small window was entirely dark, still.

He was once told that his eyes reminded of the polar night sky — simultaneously obscure and vibrant and that his distinct, manly features and virile, lithe frame of a tracker were that of a wild cat more than of a mere earthborn. The woman who uttered those words and with whom he spent a night, of which he had only some vague memories by now, had a beautiful name of _Mariah._ She was complaining about his cold hands constantly and her flowy, chestnut hair smelled of juniper — pure and fresh. He remembered liking the scent.

The woman promised to wait for his return, even confessing that she was ready to bond her life with his — her father being a wealthy merchant and her nicely-furnished roomy house was, without a doubt, the best one he had ever been into. Yet, it also meant a life of a commoner:  daily routine and weekly masses and a predictable, safe way of living with the prospect of Friday nights at the tavern and marital duty twice a week, until several hungry mouths to feed would appear to accomplish the idyllic picture of the typical ‘ _happy’_ marriage.

It was not how he wanted his life to be, with his restless nature of a dreamer and a seeker.

For he was a Loner, a Hunter and a Man under the name of _Nathan_.

**


	2. A black feather on a snow

**

The following morning greeted Nathan with merciless winds and air that cut through his lungs with each intake of breath, milky-white skies and snow-covered ground: two white worlds mixing their colorlessness in equal proportions. The monotone paysage looked sterile and even wintery trees seemed livelier amidst the all-encompassing bleakness.

Nathan was aiming his sharpened arrow at a snow-white hare, its whiskers quivering as its tiny nose was twitching, catching the scent of the hunter. A momentarily hesitation would cost him his day ration and his empty stomach growled in protest when, all of a sudden, the small animal disappeared from his view, obviously scared away by something out of his sight.

Nathan cursed and froze in his place, a certain object, in stark contrast to the pristine whiteness of snow, catching his eye — a pitch-black feather of a raven, elongated and beautiful in its own way and obviously larger than an average one as well. 

A burning wave of apprehension swept over him again and he felt his mouth went dry. He was sensing it acutely — an _alien_ presence, which made small hairs at the back of his head stand. With shaking fingers he lifted the feather and brought it to his face to have a better look. There was some amount of dry blood on it and Nathan’s inner voice was screaming: _run run run_ , for there could hardly be any doubts as to whom exactly it belonged to.

 _It_ is somewhere near. _The thing_ that was condemned evil and vicious, its mere nature proclaimed adverse to that of a human. Nathan knew what had to be done and his heart was practically leaping out of his chest, as he spotted a bloody trail — dark-red and omnious against the chasteness of snow, leading in direction of a waterfall known under the name of _Frozen Hoof_. The location was in less than two miles away from where Nathan was; he was shivering from sudden excitement and anticipation, while taking a noiseless step after step towards _something,_ of which, he had only heard before in a couple of drunken conversations in the town tavern.

The waterfall was crystalized, its motionless frozen cascades hanging like huge stalactites from the steep cliff, which reminded a cloven hoof in its shape. There was absolutely no sound and fir-trees, standing tall around the glade, akin some mute sentients, seemed to be watching Nathan expectantly. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he saw a rather large _raven_ sitting straight on the snow. It would have looked regal if not for an apparently wounded right wing, several torn feathers scattered on the ground around it. It was looking at Nathan intently, its beaked head tilted to the side. A quiet croak pierced the morning air, sounding questioningly, as if asking Nathan of its further destiny.

Nathan could just shoot it, doing the job _someone_ had left unfinished, and it was the most sane and right thing to do in the circumstances. He would return to the tavern that very evening, wearing the raven’s head around his neck as a valuable hunting trophy, his status in the eyes of the locals going up immediately: as someone who had withstood its dark spells, as someone who had killed the accursed creature of the Night, as someone who had mocked the denounced Elder Gods of the Unseen and Unknown…A true _hero_.

The bird was waiting but Nathan couldn’t move a finger, simply staring at it. It hadn’t put its spell on him, had it..? But the effect seemed to be there anyway: he couldn’t make himself kill it, as if an invisible force chained his will and made his initial murderous intention fade away with each passing moment. It looked harmless and vulnerable and so out of place in this vast and forsaken forest, he lowered his bow.

The raven blinked as if surprised and croaked shrilly a single time before beating with its healthy wing, striving to take on the skies. The attempt was doomed from the beginning and Nathan felt a pang of pity from looking at the stricken bird… _No_. It is a shape-shifter, a monster, a majestic being, infamous for its dangerous whims and unpredictability and an undoubted aversion to human beings, with a tendency to damnify mankind whenever a chance presented itself.

_“It makes human blood freeze just for fun.”_

Jin’s words echoed in his mind, jerking him out of his unexplainable stupor.

Nathan turned around to leave immediately, failing to notice that the black feather was still clenched in his fist.

He was swiftly walking away without looking back.

**

It was already getting dark when he decided that it was time to return home, two snow partridges pleasantly heavy over his shoulder. He was starving and the prospect of warm hearth and freshly-cooked supper never seemed more appealing. Nathan’s fingers ghosted over the feather, hidden in a pocket of his dark-grey, woolen cloak, his thoughts once again returning to _the thing_ he had encountered earlier that day. Regardless of _its_ magical abilities he was sure that _it_ was fated to die, left alone in such a bad condition to freeze in the wilderness, without being able to escape or seek refuge or even fight for _its_ life, in case of a danger. Maybe, it was eaten by a lynx or had died of blood loss…In spite of a widely acclaimed opinion of its supernatural essence and powers it looked quite miserable to Nathan.

He didn’t realize he was walking straight to the Frozen Hoof till he heard a feeble groan — the groan that sounded hopeless and painful and scarily _human_. It did make blood freeze in his veins, albeit figuratively.

Nathan stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the figure prostrated on the white snow with wide eyes: a young _man_ — pallid and stark naked, clad in nothing but a sophisticated necklace, made of obsidian beads and several raven feathers. He had black hair and his eyes were closed, ashen-pale lips opening to breathe in erratically. There was a dark pool of coagulated blood next to his right shoulder, where a nasty wound could be seen. The arrow seemed to have gone right through, scraping the flesh.

The creature looked fragile and haggard.

Nathan could hardly process his actions, his reason seemingly malfunctioning as he came closer, taking the… _man_ into his arms, letting _him_ shift his weight on his own shoulder, while covering _him_ with a part of his long cloak. He made a choice which was totally uncharacteristic of him, yet he couldn’t find it in him to leave the stranger for a certain death.

The hunting trophy would have to wait for now.

The road back to his secluded hut was a thorny one: the wounded man was very light but Nathan had to practically drag him like a rag doll all of the time, his semi-conscious state not helping at all. Sweat was running down Nathan’s face, stinging his eyes, as they had, finally, arrived at his secluded shelter when it was already completely dark.

Nathan put the man into his own bed, wrapping him up in furs and having a better look at his wound: it was not quite as bad as it seemed at first, yet it needed cleansing and disinfection. Nathan applied some medical herbs which he knew would help with time. There was hardly any doubt that there would be a scar but the arm could be saved…

Or should he say “ _wing_ ” instead..?

Nathan barely slept that night, staring at the stranger’s face, studying his features for some kind of an _avian_ quality or peculiarity but his nose didn’t look like a beak at all and the sharp jawline didn’t have any traces of feathers. His skin looked as smooth and as pale as a marble and his sable eye-lashes were fluttering against his cheek in his restless sleep beautifully. Maybe, he was dreaming of something frightening, which had been born out of the depths of his feverish brain, his long fingers twitching against the fur bedding in trepidation.

Nathan had to confess that he had never seen such striking beauty in his whole life: even though the man’s lips were perched they looked like two flower petals — the most perfect cupid-bow; his delicate facial features were refined and his satin-like skin was inhumanely velvety to the touch, its translucency enticing.

Nathan didn’t think what to make of his own thoughts or inexplicable, sudden urges: for example, to trace the man’s jaw with a fingertip or take a few of sweat-drenched strands away from his burning forehead.

The creature definitely had its charms and Nathan felt as if in a haze, not able to look away, drinking in the image in front of him. He was seriously risking his life, saving a _shape-shifter_ and hiding it in a way like that but, still, he didn’t appear to be overly stressed or too concerned about the fact, no matter how _ridiculous_ it might be.

The partridge broth smelled delicious and it restored Nathan’s physical strength rather quickly.  He decided that he would feed _him_ with some of it too, after _he_ would come back to his senses.

After all, he was taught that _the weak,_ regardless of their origin or descent, had to be helped. 

 

**

Nathan was at _his_ bedside on the following day and on the day after that, his latest hunt being successful and providing a sufficient amount of food to sustain for some time, also it felt strange not to go out at all. The weather was atypically bright and calm and the nature looked peaceful from the tiny window of his hut, which began to seem a bit claustrophobic, after staying inside for two days straight.

He was tending to the wound, which was healing surprisingly fast, while waiting for _his_ awakening: simultaneously anticipating and dreading it greatly. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions was stirring Nathan’s chest as he was touching the tender skin that _burned_ him to the core, instead of making him feel appalled.

By the evening of the second day of his vigil, he finally heard a _whisper_ , which made him drop a metallic bowl he was holding — some herbal brew, which he had made, splattering over the wooden floor of the hut.

He was afraid to turn around but he knew he had to, his knees going weak suddenly.

A pair of pitch-black eyes was boring through him, as _he_ was sitting, leaning back on his elbows, among the disheveled skins, his pale chest dewy from sweat and glistening in the dim light of the hearth. The fire was reflecting in his eyes and shadows, dancing over his impassive face, made him look like a marble statue of some unknown _pagan god_. His arcane-looking necklace added to the image too.

“Why?”

His voice was quiet, more of a rustling of a snake in the tall grass than of a croak of a crow in it.

Nathan knew what exactly he was asked about — too many _whys:_ why didn’t he take _his_ life? Why didn’t he leave _him_ to die in the woods? Why did he take care after _him_ , tending to his wound? Why were his hands itching to touch _him_? Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away from _him_? Why was he _not_ afraid at all..?

“I don’t know,” and he really didn’t. At least, he gave an honest answer.

“It is so typically human — _not_ _to know_.”

An embittered smile ghosted over his sharpened features and Nathan shivered involuntarily.

“So, what’s now? I think you would have me already killed if it had been your initial goal, like _the one of your kind_ before you was trying to not a long time ago, albeit unsuccessfully. ”

He pointed at the telling bondage on his right shoulder, his gaze stern and blazing.

“You want to sell me then or, maybe, you’ll be showing me off as a hunting trophy — _hey, everyone, look at the disgusting, evil thing I have managed to ensnare… Such a rarity…_ ”

The tone of his was dripping mockery. Nathan winced. He was not like the others, after all.

“You are _not_ disgusting and not a _thing_!”

Nathan blurted out, his voice raising and his face suddenly growing hot — not from the heat of the nearby hearth apparently.

 _He_ huffed, turning his face to the side and worrying his dry lips, which turned scarlet immediately, black beads of his elaborated necklace sparkling in the semidarkness.

Nathan moved closer, sitting down on his heels and searching for the man’s averted eyes. The air in the hut seemed stifling to him as if becoming thicker in the blink of an eye.

“You are free to leave if you want — now or when you are fully recovered…I really can’t say what exactly made me act the way I did but I simply know that I did _the right thing_.”

His throat felt uncomfortably constricted but he continued, anyway.

“By the way, my name is Nathan.”

 _He_ turned to look at him, at last; his cheeks not as pallid anymore and his black eyes sparkling brighter than the obsidian beads around his beautiful neck.

_Like the dark Sun._

Nathan seemingly forgot how to breathe, as if a pair of invisible hands was choking him, squeezing air out of his lungs.

“ _Yuzuru.”_

The name was just as exotic and exquisite as its holder.

**

Yuzuru left neither in a week time, nor in a month time. At first, they were expecting each day to be the last for them but the date of Yuzuru’s leaving kept on moving further into the vague future. As time was passing by, Nathan found Yuzuru talking more and more — still guarded and hyper-aware but thawing away little by little, nevertheless. There was a semblance of quiet and even peaceful existence although the both of them knew how deceptive the impression truly was. There was a sense of time running out and Nathan felt more and more puzzled with the conflicting emotions that were raging wild in his chest.

At times, he felt as if he was falling apart _literally_ — the moment he was looking into Yuzuru’s eyes as they were sharing a supper, or the instant their fingers brushed accidentally; often, while lying in the darkness at night and listening to the other’s even breathing, Nathan’s thoughts were travelling to a dangerous territory of thinking about the heat Yuzuru’s skin seemed to emanate constantly… It only made him feel utterly confused and _colder_ inside.

It was not good… _Not good_ _at all_.     

The scar on Yuzuru’s shoulder kept on being a constant reminder of the circumstances of their meeting and of the reality, they found themselves caged in: having to hide and be extremely cautious and secretive; especially, it referred to Nathan, who had to appear among villagers from time to time. Doubtless, he wouldn’t tell a thing, yet on his third visit to the village tavern he met Patrick and it was the older hunter who began a conversation with him — for the first time ever, his shrewd eyes refusing to leave Nathan’s face for a second.

“Wow…You have never looked so good…What is the matter? You are simply glowing, those rosy cheeks of yours are quite remarkable, you know! Dare to share a secret?”

Patrick even winked.

Nathan’s countenance remained unaffected and he continued to stare into his unfinished glass of ale without uttering a word in response.

“Guess what Tom-the-Reek has told me? You know Tom-the-sharpest-eyes-in-the-area, don’t you? ”

Nathan sensed his eyelid twitch. Patrick noticed it too, of course.

“He told me of the blood trail in the Woods of Doom and of the raven feathers found not far from the Frozen Hoof! Can you imagine it?!”

There was a dark mischief in Patrick’s eyes now. Nathan was clenching his nearly empty glass so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“Yes, the whole town is buzzing about it and I think I know _the source_ of those strange and frightening things poor Tom had discovered… _It_ escaped me once but the next time _it_ wouldn’t, I promise.”

A nauseating lump formed in Nathan’s throat and he drank the remainder of his ale in one gulp.

“I think it is getting late and I am really tired, so…It is always _nice_ seeing you, Patrick, and just… _Take care_.”

“You too take care, kid, for mortal sins are to be punished by death.”

Nathan rose and retired to his room without a second glance, his whole being yearning to come back to his home at once. He realized that it would only raise extra suspicions and, besides, the trip there at night time practically equaled suicide, so he had no choice but to close his eyes and pray to the Elder Gods that the dawn would arrive faster.

It was well past midnight, when he heard some quiet but persisting knocking at the door of his room. His hand found his hunter knife under the pillow, its blade being just as razor-sharp as always. He relaxed a little after seeing that it was only _Jin_ _the barman_ , still wearing his apron and looking weary yet determined.

Sincere concern was written all over his face and Nathan waited for him to speak first.

“Hi! I’m sorry, I know it’s late and you were probably sleeping…hmm…I just heard your conversation with Patrick. _Unintentionally_ , I assure you! It is just the job, it makes you starting to hear better with time, your ear training along the way, you know…”

“You wanted something?” Nathan got keyed up at the mention of his rival hunter’s name, his nerve endings raw and naked. His grip on the knife tightened.

“Well, yes… Have you seen _it_? You promised to tell me.”

Jin was fidgeting, his breathing hitching as he was looking at Nathan wide-eyed and hopeful — just a young boy _buried alive_ in this hole, along with his youthful dreams.

Nathan sighed, not finding it in him to break his given promise.

“Yes, I have.”

Jin’s face beamed and he rushed to Nathan’s bedside, taking place at the edge and leaning into Nathan close, before starting whispering haltingly:

“I somehow knew it, I felt it…Mother has told me _they_ come for those, who were chosen by the Elder Gods. She thinks they bring misfortune and suffering but I can see that you are still alive, so your blood is not frozen, apparently…Is _it_ beautiful? Does _it_ look like a human or a raven? Have you seen _it_ fly?”

The boy was bursting with excitement, his long fingers digging into the back of Nathan’s hand with such force it was painful.

“Well, actually, it is _he_ and, yes, he looks beautiful… _Inhumanely_ beautiful, to tell the truth. And I have seen him in his avatar of a raven too but I haven’t seen him fly yet.”

Jin’s breath caught in his throat and Nathan winced, thinking that his wrist might break in the young man’s grip.

“Oh, I’d die to see it… _him_ , I mean. But I know I can’t. I have to tell you something important, though. I hear a lot and there is a rumor that a squad is organized by Jimmy-the-Lubber and other men to go to the Woods of Doom and to search for it and hunt it down… _him,_ I mean… like in old times. I thought I’d warn you, just in case.”

Nathan felt a wave of gut-wrenching fear seizing him in its clutch, his mouth turning as dry as sandpaper.

“Thank you. I won’t forget your kindness…Here, take it but no one is allowed to see it. _No one_ , I repeat. Do you hear me?”

Jin’s fingers were trembling as he took a feather of a raven reverently, tears welling up in his bright eyes of an _incorrigible_ _dreamer_.

“No one will, I swear… And I’ll pray for you and for… _him_.”

Nathan took to the road with the first faint rays of the winter dawn.

**


	3. Ascension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. This chapter contains sexually explicit content.

**

Upon his return, Nathan caught Yuzuru standing on his tip toes, staring into the only small window. His guest flinched at the sound of the closing door, as if woken up from deep slumber.

“Do you want to go out? The weather is not bad at all today.”

It was a sunny winter day outside —blindingly bright, snowflakes on the evergreen fir-tree branches shining like tiny jewels, air crisp and life-giving.

Yuzuru shook his head. He was wearing Nathan’s loose, dark blue shirt and a pair of plain flaxen trousers. He appeared to be well-rested, while still remaining as pale as usual. Nathan smiled in understanding, although, a bitter lump was forming in his throat, making it hard to speak. Yet, the subject of the situation they were in, had to be addressed sooner or later.

“They are looking for you. There will be a raid into the woods to get you. You need to leave… _Soon.”_

Yuzuru’s shoulders tensed visibly and he couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“I see. It was foolish of me to stay here for such a long time anyway… _They_ would never accept me or someone of my kind, you being the only _peculiar_ exception among them, obviously. ”

Nathan’s breath caught in his throat as he was watching Yuzuru cover the distance between them, his fingers touching Nathan’s jaw gingerly, their bodies so close he could feel Yuzuru’s heat burning him even through the layers of their clothing.

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning… But I would like to thank you for everything you have done for me. You have saved my life and I shall never forget it. Is there anything I can do for you in return? Tell me what it is that you desire?”

Nathan was staring at Yuzuru’s crimson lips, the tips of his ears turning embarrassingly red. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest as he mumbled quietly:

“What is it like to fly?”

A ghost of a smirk twisted Yuzuru’s tempting lips, as he leaned into Nathan impossibly close, making the distance between them practically non-existent. His pupils were dilated and there was a gleam of _something_ Nathan couldn’t quite grasp at their bottomless darkness.

“What is it like to love?”  

Nathan couldn’t comprehend the question and what it could possibly imply. Was there a hidden call alluding to _things_ he was dreading to even start thinking of..?

Yet, the next moment, words were spilling from his mouth, as if on their own accord — bold and stripped of any pretense or fake modesty, the most primal of instincts kicking in, raw and overpowering, his reason crumbling under the surge of fire that was storming in his blood.

“ _I’ll show you_.”

Nathan kissed Yuzuru’s lips with a bruising force, ruthlessly taking what he had been secretly wanting for so long; unbridled passion in each stroke of his tongue inside Yuzuru’s velvety mouth. He felt a pair of thin hands pulling at his hair, scraping at his nape, urging him on and pushing him away simultaneously. It was getting hard to breath, yet he couldn’t stop — Yuzuru’s sweetness intoxicating him.

At last, Yuzuru shoved Nathan away — the exact moment he felt one of his hands sliding beneath his loose shirt. Nathan’s cold touches were contrasting sharply against the feverish glow of his own skin.

“No… _Later_. I want to show you something first. Come.”

Nathan followed Yuzuru outside as if in a dream, his mind in a delightful haze. Yuzuru was barefooted and Nathan was watching in amazement as the snow was _melting_ beneath his feet, turning into water that was licking at his heels meekly.

Finally, Yuzuru stopped amidst a circle of grand fir-trees, on a clearing in the woods that was flooded with bleak rays of the arctic sun.

Yuzuru took off all of his clothes and the nature itself seemed to hold its breath. He looked _radiant_ , surrounded by the wintry splendor, the black necklace of obsidian beads and raven feathers _aglare_ around his long neck; his pale skin appeared to simmer with inner glow, as if numerous particles of light were encapsulated right beneath its tender surface.

He was ethereal and powerful and so hauntingly beautiful.

Nathan fell to his knees without even realizing it, snow seeping through the fabric of his trousers. He was watching unblinking and in stunned silence as Yuzuru started to draw signs over the snow with his forefinger, mysterious _black runes_ materializing and then fading away without a trace just as quickly as they were emerging.

Nathan thought he heard a distance voice — ghostly and elusive like a rustle of a wind itself, whispering words, the meaning of which, he couldn’t understand, yet, which made his skin crawl.

_Northern Spirits of Old, make me grow back my wings; Ancient Keepers of the Neverlands, help me soar into the Skies —_ _weightless and free; Gods of the Stellar Pantheon, let the Sun and the Stars illuminate my Way to You; Elders of  Frostbitten Lands make me Yours again._

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, indescribable fear washing over him, the moment he saw Yuzuru’s slender form being engulfed by the _black fog_ , which was curling around his body — _transforming_ and performing a _metamorphose_ that was so unnatural and awe-inspiring, it could make a sane person go mad.

The magical ritual lasted only minutes but it felt as if the time itself stood still — against all laws of the Universe; finally, Nathan heard a triumphant _croak_ and a murmur of a pair of powerful _raven wings_ spreading themselves over his respectfully reclined head.

The raven was large and graceful, soaring high in the blue skies, as rays of the winter sun were making its ebony wings shine with pure gold. Tears were streaming down Nathan’s face, freezing in the cold. He was thinking that he would give a lot _and more_ for the opportunity to be with Yuzuru, up there — lost in the infinity of the clear skies.

And a part of his soul, in a wonderful and unexplainable way, was really there — flying by its own, at Yuzuru’s side.

**

Afterwards, Yuzuru fell to the ground, immediately turning into his human form — breathing heavily and looking exhausted, the first flight in such a long time taking its toll on him inevitably. Nathan took his frail figure in his arms, carrying him to the hut without a word.

Yuzuru was sleeping for the rest of the day, till his eyes opened, all of a sudden, as the deep purple twilights came flooding into the room.

He was looking at Nathan, lying on his bedding made of fur, his delicate arms translucent against the dark, flurry texture of animal skins.

“I have fulfilled my part of the bargain.”

There was an unspoken _invitation_ in his gaze and Nathan’s heart skipped a beat. He chased the thoughts of the following morning away for this one night was entirely theirs. He stripped down, taking Yuzuru’s palm into his hands and looking into his obscure eyes, the tension in the air making it hard to breathe.

Fire was dancing in the hearth, reflecting in the depths of Yuzuru’s pupils and Nathan wouldn’t have traded the quiet moment of intimacy between the two of them for _anything_ in this mortal world. He registered a strong gust of wind howling outside, absentmindedly — the first sign of an approaching blizzard. The nature itself was seemingly wanting to shield and protect them, covering up amidst nowhere, as it started to snow heavily.

“Have you ever done _this_ with a man before?”

Yuzuru shook his head.

“With a woman..?”

There was a tentative shake of a head once again.

“And…In a _human form_ at all…? Pleasuring yourself, perhaps..?”

Yuzuru cast his eyes to the ground, a faint pink spreading over his delicate neck, all the way up to his cheeks.

“No.”

Nathan couldn’t bite back a moan as he sealed Yuzuru’s lips with his own, heady arousal making him tremble. He was kissing him deep and slow, exploring and savouring, taking his time. He felt Yuzuru’s little sharp nails dig into his shoulder blades hard, as his long legs wrapped around his loins. Soon, Yuzuru started to squirm beneath him, creating a delicious friction between their naked bodies — sensitive skin on skin. Nathan caught both of Yuzuru’s frail wrists, securing them above his head, pressing his wriggling body into the silky fur with all of his might.

“Hey…Slow down a bit.”

He poured all of his tenderness into the tone of his voice, making it sound as the softest of pleas.

“Just trust me and let it all go… _Please_.”

Nathan has never wanted anyone so desperately in his life, craving to drown in Yuzuru’s body, his fingers caressing his inhuman lover’s skin with unbridled gentleness and awe. He sensed Yuzuru melting into him as if he was meant for him _alone_ and it shook Nathan to the core, the force of his desire gaining new heights in its intensity, scorching his insides.

“I want you so much,” words whispered into the crook of Yuzuru’s neck breathless and feverish.

Nathan traced the mark from the arrow on Yuzuru’s shoulder with his tongue — a real _blasphemy_ on his satin-like skin, yet it brought the two of them together in the most dramatic and fatal of ways.

Nathan was afraid he might unintentionally hurt him so he had to restrain his ardency, his self-control threatening to break any moment.

He wanted _to worship_ him, this _godly creature_ , that fell into his hands so unexpectedly, and if it meant sacrificing his mortal soul he wouldn’t hesitate for a minute. 

Nathan was sucking the tender skin of Yuzuru’s neck before sliding his tongue lower — to flick one of his pert nipples and to elicit a groan so _voluptuous_ it made Nathan’s head spin. He was showering Yuzuru’s toned stomach with open-mouthed kisses — a wet trail left in their wake, as he continued his maddening explorations further down, settling between Yuzuru’s spread legs. He was lavishing the milky skin of his inner thighs with feather-like licks and it made his lover’s body shiver from lust.

Yuzuru arched into him gracefully, as Nathan took his already leaking cock into his mouth, tongue pressing into the slit and sliding over the sensitive underside, hands resting on his hipbones to hold him down. Yuzuru threw his head back, fingers scraping at the pelts he was lying on, as he cried out unabashedly, a violent pleasure of his _first_ orgasm sweeping over his convulsing body; his previously dormant carnality now raging in all of its wild glory.  

Nathan was drinking _his_ bitter-sweetness greedily, not an ounce wasted, his own cock throbbing between his legs. He slid up Yuzuru’s body to claim his lips in a lustful kiss — their tongues fighting for dominance, hot and sloppy.

The intensity of Yuzuru’s passionate respond nearly made Nathan tip over the edge.

Yuzuru’s sweaty skin was glowing in the warm light of the hearth and Nathan was tracing the outline of his swollen lips with a fingertip, needing a bit of a time to regain at least some semblance of self-control.

“ _Is this all_?”

Yuzuru’s eyes were shining brighter than the Northern star.

Nathan chuckled, amused by his straightforwardness.

“ _No way_... Will you…hmm… turn over, please?”

Yuzuru obediently did as he had been told, looking over his shoulder at Nathan intrigued — pure curiosity all over his fine features.

Nathan shuddered at the sight.

He got up to retrieve a small bottle of fragrant oil from one of the shelves, as Yuzuru was taking in each of his movements with keen eyes. Nathan poured some of the substance on his fingers and bent down over Yuzuru’s slender back to ravish it with hungry kisses — each vertebra and the little alluring dimples at the small of his back. Yuzuru lowered his head, burying his flustered face into the furs, his heart beating painfully fast, body taut from excitement and coiling anticipation.

Nathan traced the perfect swell of his ass with his palms — kneading at the supple flesh and leaving a greedy love bite, making Yuzuru keen softly into the bedding.   

As one of Nathan’s slick fingers penetrated him unhurriedly, Yuzuru couldn’t bite back a choked gasp, breathing erratically, his body trying to adjust to the unknown sensations. Nathan was peppering Yuzuru’s back with comforting kisses as he kept on opening his virgin hole meticulously: plunging his long fingers in deep and scissoring carefully, marveling at the silky heat of his lover to be. Small trembles were wrecking Yuzuru and he couldn’t comprehend how something could feel so _good_ and so _torturous_ at the same time.

Nathan twisted his wrist, slightly changing the angle and crooking his fingers inside of Yuzuru’s tight body — finding what he was looking for, at last, Yuzuru’s broken cry serving him as the best reward. He caught his lover’s sweaty palm with his other hand, twining their fingers in an unconscious display of urgency.

Nathan felt himself trapped in a sultry dream — almost too sensual to bear; his being raked by a desire so keen he knew it would make something inside of him irreversibly altered.

He was watching Yuzuru moaning uncontrollably, impaling himself on his invading digits, without an ounce of shameful modesty, chasing the blinding pleasure that was building deep inside his body, his achingly sensitive cock grazing against the soft fur he was lying on. Nathan was caressing his side soothingly with his free hand, mouthing the moist skin of his lower back, as Yuzuru came for the second time — falling apart in front of his human lover’s eyes, clenching around Nathan’s fingers in ecstasy; his sobs of delight mixing with the howl of the snowstorm, raging outside.   

Yuzuru was facedown — lying motionlessly, his relaxed body still floating in his post-orgasmic bliss as Nathan grabbed him by the hips firmly, positioning himself behind.

A single word was beating in his mind and he groaned it out loudly, sinking all the way in into Yuzuru’s heavenly tightness.

“ _One…”_

He began thrusting at once, establishing a deliberate and forceful rhythm, each go of his hips setting his nerve-endings aflame. Nathan was burying himself to the hilt, tiny, breathy groans accentuating his sweeping movements, a pleasurable agony drowning his senses. He knew he wouldn’t last long and so he pressed into Yuzuru, covering his delicate frame with his whole body, his mouth finding his ear to plunge his tongue into it, in sync with the deep rolls of his hips.

Nathan slid his hand underneath Yuzuru to give his cock several shaky tugs, making the both of them spiral into the shared precipice; a _free fall_ that let Nathan feel weightless — _ascending_ higher and higher, till he saw numerous stars exploding at the back of his eyelids, his consciousness slipping away as he reached his shattering climax.

On that night he fell asleep feeling himself the happiest of mortals, inhaling Yuzuru’s spicy scent, their exhausted bodies entwined.

_Impossibly close, achingly real._

**


	4. Frostbitten Eden: found and lost

**

Nathan woke up to find the hearth already cold. Pale rays of the dull morning light were illuminating the room, making it seem ashen. The blizzard had calmed down entirely and there was no trace of Yuzuru’s presence in his modest dwelling. The only thing, which was still reminding of him, was his heady scent — clinging to Nathan’s skin and on the fur that was slightly damp. Nathan gripped the fur, burying his face into it and taking a deep and a shaky breath.

Images from the previous night were changing themselves in a torturously-sweet sequence in front of Nathan’s mind eye: Yuzuru writhing beneath him, in throes of an agonizing pleasure, as he was _claiming_ him — making his own savagely, as if there were no tomorrow.

_He wished it really weren’t._

A wave of despair washed over Nathan as he started to dress swiftly, fingers disobeying him. He couldn’t make himself eat, so after having washed up with freezing water, he simply fell on his bedding again — numb from a poignant yearning for his uncanny lover.

The day passed in gloom, minutes dragging and empty. Nathan was lying, crystalized in his motionless anguish, even starting to regret that he had given _his_ black feather to that wretched tavern boy. For the briefest of moments, he seriously considered going back to Jin to crawl on his knees before him, begging to return his own gift back. He chased the crazy and humiliating thought away, fearing for his sanity.

The next time he opened his eyes, sinking out of his oblivion, was from a severe cold, white frost forming on his moist eyelashes. Nathan put on his fur-lined, woolen cloak and went outside into the descending night. He knew not where his feet were taking him, wandering in the woods in darkness, with only his hunting knife as a weapon. It was not the best idea, to say the least, yet he didn’t feel fear, his instinct of self-preservation paradoxically benumbed.

Nathan couldn’t believe it was _the end_ , wordlessly asking the stars if he would see _him_ one more time; eyes striving to decipher the outlines of a figure — _winged_ or _not_ , among the thick trunks of the trees. His reason appeared to be bewitched: hoping against all logic and common sense, paralyzed by longing he was feeling.

He even dared to call out Yuzuru’s name several times, his voice seeming feeble, absorbed by the silent forest. The hours he spent searching for his disappeared lover that night turned out to be futile; his tired feet aching and his high boots drenched — all in vain.

The Wood was watching him impassible, sparing not a sign or a prompt to appease his grieving heart or ignite the tiniest flicker of hope.

Time passed and Nathan began cursing himself for his own weakness but he simply couldn’t forget _him_ , no matter how hard he was trying to: his arrows missing their targets with an increasing frequency, his hands peeling off the layers of the hunted beasts with a growing frenzied annoyance.

Was there a remedy that could cure his bleeding soul, except for a pair of a petal-like, pale lips and impossibly tender hands..?

One evening, Nathan heated some water and poured it into a big metallic washtub. He took off his shirt and pants and sank into its warmth. The water was getting cool fast, but the feeling was pleasant for his bone-tired body anyway.

Suddenly, he sensed a pair of delicate hands sliding down his naked torso from behind, thumbs brushing his nipples and stopping at his midriff.

He feared briefly it was only one of those accursed dreams that used to plague his existence day and night.

Yet, a dark chuckle proved him wrong and an electric jolt ran through his still _unbelieving_ body.

“Yuzuru?!”

Nathan jerked abruptly, eyes flying open. He didn’t hear any steps, not even a sound of a movement but as he turned his head around, he saw his lover’s beautiful face — as serene as ever, a smile radiating his fair countenance. Nathan stretched his hand to caress his cheek, as if wanting to reassure that he wouldn’t vanish like all of the visions he previously had. 

Yuzuru’s expression changed, turning to a more tortured one, his refined features instantly distorted by explicit longing.

Nathan’s breath caught in his throat and his gaze grew darker.

_“What are you doing here?! It’s incredibly reckless!”_

_“Do you want me to leave?”_

_“No! No! Don’t you, dare!”_

_“Have you missed me?”_

_“Yes!”_

_“Will you love me again?”_

_“Yes!”_

_“Are you in love with me?”_

_“I am…But you are a fool for coming back here.”_

_“And you are a fool for falling in love with me...”_

_“I know…Come here, now.”_

And _he_ did.

**

From now on, they were seeing each other every single day. At times, while hunting, Nathan would spot a dark shadow of a raven over the brightness of the snow and he would follow the black bird, flying above him and showing him the way to a hideout of an arctic fox or to a lone wolf that happened to be too old or too weakened to follow its pack.

Nathan feasted his eyes on Yuzuru; be it his raven avatar or human incarnation: he looked equally graceful and airy, his powerful wings just as beautiful as his chiseled, slender form of a young man.

Nathan didn’t think one could find a paradise in such a desolate and harsh place as this, amidst snow-covered vastness, in a secluded wooden hut with a sole, tiny window to peep out at the unchanging paysage of grey and white; a personal _frostbitten_ _Eden_ of his.

He didn’t want to think of _its_ _price_ , being entirely smitten and hence dangerously carefree. Every time Yuzuru flew away he felt a nauseating wave of anxiety washing over him, his inner balance undone by a constant dread of not seeing him ever. He was afraid that a day when _he_ simply wouldn’t return to him anymore would come. He realized it was selfish and that it couldn’t last forever but he wanted it to with a frightening force, bordering on an _obsession_.

Once, while they were lying in each other’s embrace: satiated and basking in the afterglow, Yuzuru lazily drawing invisible patterns across Nathan’s naked chest with his dainty forefinger, he found it in him to ask:

“What is it that makes you stay here, in these forsaken lands? You can probably fly anywhere — your wings strong and the Elder Gods sustaining your magical powers, granting their loyalty to you?”

“And you can just _walk_ _anywhere with_ _your own two feet_ , you know...”

Nathan caught Yuzuru’s hand, twining their fingers, not intending to let the conversation he had just started to turn into a simple joke.

“I was born here and it is the only life I have ever known, the only world I have ever been a part of.”

Yuzuru looked up, searching for Nathan’s gaze, his expression turning serious.

“Aren’t you — _people,_ I mean, are afraid of changes? Oftentimes condemning everything new, too close-minded and obdurate to raise your heads and look up to the skies instead of staring into the ground all of the time. You adore the ability to fly freely, yet you like to kill those, who were born with this ability or even simply dared to pursue it. You like to think you know what is right, painting everything in your two most favourite colours: black and white, the other shades eluding your narrow vision completely…Your nature is too contradicting and corrupted by your own sense of extreme self-worth, endless egoism of the _“supreme creations”_ allowing you to bring the whole wide world to its knees without blinking an eye. You have practically eradicated my kind and I’ll tell you _why_ — the only reason is that we were _different_ …Different from you.”

Nathan’s grip on Yuzuru’s fingers strengthened.

“The two things I really know are that I am _a mere human_ and that _I love you_ , Yuzuru…Love you the way only a _human heart is capable of_ …Even, in spite of your latest misanthropic sermon, with which I have to agree... _Partially_.”

Yuzuru’s expression softened and Nathan brought their faces together, kissing him desperately, truthfully.

Yuzuru’s eyes were gleaming with dark mirth.

“By the way, The Elder Gods are powerless in the South…Or anywhere else, for that matter…Just like any other gods are.”

Nathan didn’t want to think of sermons or gods, or of existential laws, or of the way human society function — holding his lover in his arms being the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.

He was grateful for what the fate had given him and he would fight anyone, who would try to steal it from him.

Nathan made Yuzuru forget about all of the inequities existing in the universe, thinking that loving him was the highest of privileges: their bodies close enough to feel each other’s cells vibrate with passion. Nathan was overwhelmed by the heat that was enveloping him every time he was _inside_ of him — drinking sweet, breathy moans from his parted lips, hands clinging to a sweaty skin of the finest silk, immersing in _deeper_ and _deeper_ …

At moments like these, the whole universe seemed to fade away for Nathan, for he was entrapped _in another one_ _—_ for several, painfully intense minutes.

Returning to reality was always cruel.

_“I have to go. It’s already time.”_

_“Stay.”_

_“I’ll return. I promise.”_

_“Don’t go.”_

And Yuzuru stayed: for nights, for days, for a time they had bestowed upon them by a capricious destiny.

 

**

The world seemed to be collapsing around Nathan as he was _running_ — his feet sinking in the deep snow, lungs burning, torn from the inside by merciless frosty air.

_It couldn’t be too late._

Panic swept over him, his mind racing.

What if it _is_ too late..?

Acrid bile in his throat, sweat pouring down his face and back; thin puffs of heat evaporating instantly through multiple, now damp, layers of wool into a freezing air. 

Nathan was at the tavern, when Jin’s hushed murmur turned his whole existence upside down:

_“They have gone to the Woods of Doom…The hunting raid…It’s not my fault…I didn’t want to…My mother, you know my mother…She have found the feather and…I don’t know how…I swear I didn’t want to…Please, please,  forgive me…”_

Nathan’s eyes went blank, the wooden stool he was sitting on overturned, as he rose to his feet abruptly, having no time for a proper explanation. Looking into the boy’s wild eyes was enough to make him set off on the road immediately. He was acutely aware that all gazes of the tavern visitors were glued to him: some disapproving, some bemused, some overly curious but _none_ _sympathizing_.

He kept on repeating that he still had time and it was the only thought that kept him sane, helping run faster, adrenaline infusing into his blood stream.

The wind was throwing handfuls of snow into his face and an absurd thought that the nature itself was trying to thwart his return visited his agitated mind not once, as he was following a barely visible path, only hunters knew of, through the thick of the wood.

He saw bright flickers of burning torches in the evening twilight.

Nathan noticed dark silhouettes lurking behind the fir-trees — _the hunters_ dressed in elk skins and skulls, magnificent antlers of the beasts crowning their heads; there were shrilling screams and screwed laughter, which were turning a once _sacred_ ritual into a petty drunken escapade, mocking the Ancestors and the memory of the times long gone.

Nathan noticed the lurid reflections of fires all over the swiftly darkening horizon and a wild terror gripped him.

After a little while, he saw his hut and nearby trees being consumed by raging flames, its heat so intense it made the Frozen Hoof _cry_ , huge icicles of the waterfall weeping with melting water.

Nathan fell to the ground, exhausted and suffocating, the smell of burning wood filling his nostrils, clingy snow stuffing his mouth and eyes, making it hard to take a breath.

_The world around consisted of red and white._

_Of heat and coldness._

_Fatal reality seeming surreal because of its brutality._

There was a sound of approaching footsteps, snow crunching beneath numerous feet and then there were _voices,_ heard as if through the water mass.

Nathan opened his eyes — _antlered_ _men_ gathered around his sprawled body were swimming in a bloody mist, his vision blurring.

He was blindly reaching for his hunter knife when he felt a heavy knee-boot crush the back of his hand.

He yelped in piercing pain.

Words were flying at him from all sides, crude and raucous.

“We’ve got him now!”

“I bet he was screwing _that thing_! Can you imagine?! What a frigging pervert!”

“There is no need to be harsh, Jimmy, maybe, the kid just likes a nice feathery bum…What’s wrong with that?!”

A burst of a deafening drunken laughter, that followed, made Nathan fume inwardly.

“Bind him hand and foot, guys! He should be put on trial like a _criminal_ that he is!”

Nathan was put on his legs, feeling strangely apathetic and devoid of any will to resist, his anger evaporating unexplainably.

He felt a pair of familiar stern eyes bore through him.

_“Mortal sins are to be punished by death…Remember?”_

Patrick’s voice was colder than the impending arctic night itself, giving Nathan a shiver.

 

**


	5. The first and the last flight

**

Yuzuru’s heart was beating violently in his chest, dark locks clinging to the back of his neck from cold sweating.

_He had to try._

The village spread itself in front of his eyes below, in a snow-covered valley, its small windows flickering in the nightfall. He used to stay away from human settlements at all costs, not wanting to raise inevitable questions by his eye-catching appearance and avoiding unnecessary risk. He had never set his foot into any township before.

The houses seemed deserted, doors locked and shutters closed. It was starting to snow heavily and there was not a soul in the street. The uncanny quietude sent a shiver down Yuzuru’s spine and he wrapped himself tighter into his black woolen cloak, its cape protecting him from biting wind. He was dressed in simple clothes that had been given to him by Nathan quite some time ago. He remembered the day vividly — them fooling around, laughing, Yuzuru wanting to try on a pair of Nathan’s grey trousers and a biege shirt that was too oversized but comfy, nevertheless, its fabric pleasant to the touch. Nathan told him he should keep the clothes, _just in case_.

The only building that appeared to have some traces of life was a town tavern, its chimney pouring smoke into the dark skies. Yuzuru took a deep breath before stepping inside its packed hall: crude furniture made of timber and wood dust on its floor, tallow candles and a stony fireplace as its main sources of lightening. It was very crowded inside and the air was stuffy and overheated, scent of body sweat mingling itself with the one of sour ale. His senses were attacked by rapid-fire chatter and gruff laughter at all sides; he found the place and its visitors to be appalling. Also, he was glad that he wouldn’t attract as much attention as he could have done, were it less people, wanting to dispel the monotony of the winter evening by drowning it in some cheap booze.

He spotted a _miraculously_ vacant stool at the bar and made his way towards it, while trying to be humbler than the dust. He was listening attentively, catching words “trial” and “defiance” most often.

“Pour you something, boy?”

A middle-aged woman with a long, wavy hair and a worn-out countenance barely spared him a glance. Yuzuru blinked, he was expecting to see _the boy_ , Nathan had told him about.

He was called _Jin_.

“Some water, please.”

The woman contracted her bushy eyebrows, looking a bit baffled.

She huffed.

“ _Boiled_ or…?”

Her lips curled into a crooked smile.

Yuzuru felt his face heating up under her unwinking stare. He knew his request sounded quite strange and, perhaps, even seemed stupid by human standards and in such surroundings but he had zero money and no desire to drink the disgusting swill served here.

“Yes…That will do just fine.”

He gave her his best smile but she appeared to be unaffected, turning around and shrugging nonchalantly.

“If the problem is money let me buy you a drink.”

Yuzuru looked at the man taking a seat at his side; his tone was frigid and his gaze steely.

Yuzuru knew _this face_. He would have recognized _this man_ anytime and anywhere.

His right shoulder began to throb with a nagging pain. Although somehow he found it in him to smile, casting his eyes downwards as if in a mild embarrassment.

“Only if you insist...”

Patrick waved the woman and ordered Yuzuru some ale. He thanked the man despite of his inner repulsion and unwillingness to share a drink with the notorious hunter.

“Thank you for your kindness.”

Patrick’s eyes were devouring him, the fixidity of his look making Yuzuru’s heartbeat speed up, his obsidian necklace pulsing hotly against his skin, safely hidden underneath his buttoned-up shirt and his heavy cloak.   

“So…You are not from these places, for sure. Have come to see the major entertainment of the year, hmm?”

Yuzuru hoped his voice didn’t waver.

“Yes. I’ve heard that the trial will take place soon over a young man…”

“The trial..?”

Patrick looked sincerely amused.

“What planet are you on, seriously? The trial was last week. Now there is only _the execution_ that is left.”

Yuzuru dropped his gaze, fingers trembling slightly against his still untouched glass of ale.

“Do you know him?”

Patrick was looking at him as if he wanted to get to his very soul.

“No, I…I am here to pay a visit to a friend of mine. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. His name is _Jin_. Do you happen to know where he is?”

Yuzuru locked his eyes with Patrick, acquiring an appearance of calm self-confidence, trying to show the man that he had no hidden agenda, only sincere concern for well-being of his friend.

“The woman who has served you your drink tonight is his mother, actually. Don’t you know the mother of your friend..? She is working instead of him because he has been put under a house arrest. By the way, it has to do with the same case everyone around is talking about. The boy had to take it to the street at once — about the damned feather and its giver. Then we would have intervened immediately. Too bad _the thing_ has managed to slip away. You wouldn’t believe it but I have nearly managed to kill _one_ myself — huge black wings and an ugly beak... _Complete abomination._ ”

Yuzuru smiled at Patrick enticingly, his eyes glaring with the darkest of flames.

“Well, let’s drink then for your better luck next time!”

He made a big gulp of ale, successfully suppressing his gag reflex.

Patrick finished his glass, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

“Care to continue our acquaintance somewhere… in private?”

_So that they would have you burned at the stake too._

“Maybe, some other time.”

Yuzuru stood up to leave.

Patrick rose to his feet too, grabbing Yuzuru by the wrist.

“What is your name? How will I find you?”

“ _I’ll find you myself.”_

Yuzuru gently worked his hand free out of Patrick’s grasp, putting on his cape and heading towards the exit. Patrick licked his lips, watching the receding form of a stranger, a vague sense of being twisted around the finger emerging in his chest.

“Serve me some more ale, woman! Dammit…”

**

Nathan raised his eyes, looking at the only window of his cell. It was out of his reach, situated beneath the high ceiling — its square simultaneously being a source of light and of mockery over his position of a prisoner. He sank his head on arms, sitting mutely as hours were passing buy, sunrays sliding over the grey stony wall. Solitary confinement gave plenty of room for reflections and reminiscences. Words that had been thrown at him during the trial were now echoing in his head repetitively like an alarum-bell.

Verdict —“guilty”: of concealment, of unbelief, of his own illicit love… _Of his fate._

Sleep used to bring at least some semblance of solace and it was easy to imagine himself in his little house again — fire cracking in the hearth merrily, delicate odour of Yuzuru’s skin invading his senses, his precious warmth in his arms.

Irreversibility was the most painful thing to resign to.

The night crept up candidly, shadows invading the space of his prison cell. Nathan was swallowed up by the darkness, the gloom _inside_ being far scarier than the absence of physical light on the outside. He closed his eyes, praying to the Elder Gods for Yuzuru’s safety and for his own deliverance which was meant to come with fire. He was not afraid of death, not after the great loss he had experienced.  

 Suddenly, a quiet rustling could be heard and Nathan tensed — his senses on full alert.

“It’s me.”

Nathan heard Yuzuru’s low whisper.

 _Was he hallucinating again?_    

“There is no time to explain everything now… Just get undressed quickly and take the black bead I’d give you. Put it inside your mouth. Then, close your eyes and rise to your feet, facing the North. Now listen to me carefully! You’ll have to repeat the incantation in one breath for the spell to be effective.”

_Raven Wings take me high, make my Soul soar to the winter Sky._

Nathan was too stunned to even think of doubting Yuzuru’s directions. He watched the _black obsidian bead_ from his lover’s necklace being thrown through the window and the way it landed on the stone floor not far from his feet.

He did as he had been told, closing his eyes and trusting Yuzuru completely, his heart swelling with hope in his heaving chest. The next moment, his whole world seemingly _shifted_ — sharp pain tearing through his body in a scorching wave, his limbs going leaden-heavy, joints and ligaments _transforming_ and _changing_ ; his every cell was screaming in agony as his mind went numb. He wanted to cry but not a sound left his… _beak_.

_The beak of a kingly-looking and large raven._

In the blink of an eye his newly acquired body of a bird got off the ground, as if lifted by some invisible force, gravity defeated mysteriously. He flew out of the room through the window — night wind in his feathery wings and Yuzuru at his side.

Nathan’s head was spinning from the height and the sense of weightlessness; he dreamt of flying for as long as he could remember and the feeling was incomparable. He could see familiar landscape, spread before his eyes beneath: town houses seeming toy, the scene of conflagration, looking like an ugly sore on the face of the forest, slowly getting out of his sight, as he was gaining speed — a pair of powerful wings behind his back.

He was afraid that it was only a dream and that he would have to wake up to a cruel reality with the first rays of the inevitable dawn.

Yuzuru was leading the way and their flight under the night sky seemed to last endlessly; two ravens beneath the stars, melting into the darkness. As the horizon began to light up in the East, Nathan caught a faint smell of the sea. Exhilarating freshness was making him thrive with excitement. They were heading towards _the_ _Seal Bay_ , its steel-grey waves crashing against its vast, shingly shore. Nathan could spot several huge icebergs drifting in the distance.

The magnificent view took Nathan’s breath away.

They landed on the deserted beach, only moist wind and breaking waves greeting them. The instant he touched the ground, he felt his body starting to change its form — back to his true human self. He had to hold back the tears as the surge of severe pain was contorting his body all over again, _the fairy-tale nearing its end_.

The realization that his miraculous escape was not a mere creation of his despaired brain didn’t want to sink in, as Nathan was lying on the seashore, naked and quivering. He saw Yuzuru’s slender form standing with his face towards the waves, being just as nude as he.

Icy wind was playing with his dark locks, biting his skin.

Yuzuru turned around and smiled at him weakly, dark shadows under his eyes as a testimony to the state of his extreme exhaustion. Nathan watched him unclasping his elaborate necklace and throwing it away into the sea as far as he could with unwavering resolve.

“What are you doing?!”

“It is useless now — without a bead. I shall never be able to turn into a raven again. _This happened to be your first and my last flight._ ”

He looked so vulnerable and unprotected, standing alone on the vast expanse of the shore, cold waves roaring at his feet.

There were only the two of them now, against the whole wide world.

_But two are better than one._

Nathan ran to Yuzuru, taking him into his arms, his grip so tight it threatened to crush his delicate frame. They were just standing there in the freezing wind for some time— two mere humans locked in a mere mortal embrace.

_“What are we supposed to do now?”_

_“I don’t know. How about getting some clothes for a start? There is a fisherman who lives not far from here with his family. We could…”_

_“I can only imagine the look on their faces when they’ll find us at their door stark naked as we are. What will they possibly think?”_

_“What do I care? You’d better stop worrying and kiss me instead.”_

_“Won’t you miss your pair of wings?”_

_“You’ll help me grow a new one.”_

And Nathan took Yuzuru’s hand in his.

**

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading.


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